


Within Your G(r)asp

by SelfRescuingPrincess



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hands, M/M, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfRescuingPrincess/pseuds/SelfRescuingPrincess
Summary: A brief homage to handsome men trying to save democracy.
Relationships: Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	Within Your G(r)asp

**Author's Note:**

> A heartfelt thanks to [ okaystop ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop) for all of her encouragement and reassurance that this wasn't terrible….And thanks to the discord for giving me the idea.
> 
> Please be chill, and keep this secret and safe.

_ "Where it began, I can't begin to knowing" _

Jon’s hands are elegant. Dainty even. Musical and agile. Tommy loves to watch him type- beautiful earnest words, inspiring victory speeches, hilarious satirical poetry, words just falling out of his fingertips. When he plays piano, Jon's fingers create notes and chords, soft études and loud symphonies, melancholy Coldplay songs and bouncy Taylor Swift bops, just like when he's writing. Jon's fingers are long, the skin soft and smooth. Jon can move mountains, a nation, with his hands.

++++

_ "Who'd have believed you'd come along" _

Tommy’s hands are strong, designed for gripping. They mean business. When he is impassioned, animated, strident. When he gestures with his hands outstretched sometimes Jon thinks he could grab the whole world and shake it. He thinks about the calluses from guitar strings, from dumbbells and lifting weights, trailing rough across his skin. Tommy chews his fingernails out of anxiety so they are a little beat up, but when he holds Jon, their strength means safety. They are powerful and intense and still have a gentle touch. Tommy's hands are a contradiction. Much like Tommy. 

++++

_ "But now I / Look at the night and it don't seem so lonely" _

In the studio Tommy can't help but stare at Jon's hands as they adjust the microphone, scroll gently along the screen of his ipad, fidget with his water bottle, flutter against the desk. Flutter against his heart. Tommy wants to kiss each knuckle, suck on his slender index finger, the one with the ink stain. Lovett is speaking, brilliant and cutting probably, but sometimes Jon puts his fingers against his lips and Tommy can't think of anything else. Jon's delicate and deceptively persuasive hands. Against his mouth. It's distracting.

++++

_ "How can I hurt when I'm holding you" _

When he's travelling, Jon watches old livestreams on mute because all he wants are images of Tommy's hands. He refuses to save screenshots. How would he explain them? 

He doesn't tell Tommy how often he thinks about the first time Tommy grabbed his wrist and held it firm. How Tommy’s pale fingertips press into Jon’s olive skin. How he wishes Tommy’s fingers would turn from pink to white with increasing pressure. From across the table, Tommy holds his hand up to stop Jon from interrupting and Jon can feel how Tommy's hand moves the  _ air _. At least that's what it seems like. Tommy's hands can control the elements. Tommy’s hands can control Jon. Jon doesn't mind. Jon wants to feel Tommy's palm against his neck, against his cheek, against his lips. Jon closes his mouth and breathes in through his nose.

++++

_ "Hands, touching hands / Reaching out, touching me, touching you" _

Jon grips Tommy’s hand, just so he can get Tommy’s reflexive squeeze in response. Jon can feel Tommy’s tendons flex and Jon shivers. Just a little bit of a tremor, but the pressure is enough to draw it out. Jon laces his long fingers in between Tommy's, if only to increase the surface area of contact. If only to increase the likelihood of seeing Tommy's smile. If only as a small embrace. A promise of things to come.

How did you know?

Know what?

That I wanted to hold your hand?

Because I always want to hold your hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are from Sweet Caroline, because these soft idiots are Boston Bros through and through.
> 
> I rarely post, but feel free to say hello on Tumblr: [ SelfRescuingPrincess ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/self-rescuing-princess)


End file.
